The Intrigues Of Arcadia Read online

  The Intrigues Of Arcadia

  C.E. Clayton

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  19. A sneak peak of book 5: “The Spark of Divinity”

  The Monster Of Selkirk Series

  Also From DevilDog Press

  About the Author

  For my big sister, who somehow still puts up with me. And Rob, who got Tallis and her friends to this point; I’m sure he’d be proud of how far they’ve come!

  Acknowledgments

  First and always foremost, thank YOU once again dear reader for reading and enjoying my stories. Thank you for your support; I hope you continue to enjoy the ride so far!

  I can never thank my support group nearly enough for helping me along this path, and who are still so impressed that I’ve written not just a book, but multiple. Thank you to my parents, brothers, sister, sibling-in-laws, and in-laws for your support and guidance. I promise to get you all matching pom poms soon.

  Thank you to my husband for letting me talk shop, even when you didn’t understand what my dilemmas were. My #bookstagram buddies and my incredible friends Colleen, Sophie, Kim, Andy, Michael, Jaime, Karla, Brie, Erin, Kathy, Paige, Dave and everyone else who I would need another page to name (you know who you are), whose friendship and support means everything and then some to me.

  Thank you to everyone who has read and given feedback on my work, especially Kristy and Debra who are constants when it comes to the early beta read throughs. And a BIG thank you to my editor, Sheila, who inherited this project half-way through the third book but already understands me and gets my characters like she’s been there from the beginning.

  And thanks to my dog, Dobby, my constant writing companion, who somehow knows when I’ve hit a writing block by always bringing me a tennis ball so we can play, instead.

  Writing is often a solo endeavor, and Dobby keeps me sane with belly rubs (for him, not me) and long walks, despite his little legs. If you are ever in need of a fury friend, please visit your local shelter!

  Again, thank you for following Tallis. I hope her strength and loyalty to her friends have given you entertainment and comfort. If you would like a soundtrack to go along with your experience, check out the “Arcadia” playlist I created on Spotify: https://spoti.fi/2wS2VRI

  If you enjoy my work, please consider leaving a review, and if you’d like to hear more from me, please be sure to sign up for my newsletter: http://www.ceclayton.com/newsletter.html or follow me on social media, especially Instagram, where I sometimes post pictures of Dobby amidst all my book news.

  Chapter 1

  A FACE AND A NAME

  Michal winced at the clang of steel meeting steel. The reverberations of the clash made the seven rings in his earlobe vibrate and his teeth rattle.

  He grimaced. I hate the Mettling.

  Mettlings were generally held once a year all over Arcadia, but mettlings where the great Noble Households were involved only occurred in Ludwik. It was a city where many nobles liked to keep secondary estates as it was a short carriage ride from the Royal Household in Jagusia. Therefore, when a mettling occurred in Ludwik, it attracted quite a crowd as competitors from lower castes tried to catch the eyes of the great Noble Households in hopes of gaining patronage.

  Michal hated Ludwik almost as much as he hated the Mettling.

  The city smelled of the lye soap servants used to keep the roads and estates of their lords and ladies clean. The cramped, wooden buildings where the lower castes were housed tended to smell faintly of mold, and the painted murals of flowers on the walls always seemed to be in need of a touch up. He supposed it was a lovely city, once you got past all that, but Michal preferred his sprawling country estate to the decadent, close quartered manors in Ludwik.

  Usually, he trusted the head of his Warrior Household to make recommendations to him on whom to patron, making his physical presence redundant and saving him from the extreme discomfort the event left him with. But when Lady Zofia sent a personal invitation, one attended without question.

  Michal gestured at one of the servants who lined the wall of Zofia’s private box and pointed to his nearly empty glass of wine. He wished it was something stronger—like vodka—but it would have been rude to request it, that much Michal knew. The servant filled his glass and melted back against the wall.

  “Enjoying yourself, darling?” Zofia cooed, watching him with a lofty, veiled expression.

  Michal nodded and raised his glass to her, lying to the old noblewoman. Zofia may have been the oldest noble in Arcadia, aside from King Renard, but she was far from senile. A fact Michal could not forget, as the health of his own household depended on Zofia and her prosperity.

  Zofia chuckled at his side. “I know you hate these things, my dear. I assure you, I didn’t invite you simply to watch you squirm.”

  Michal was about to respond when a roar erupted around the arena. He glanced over the rail of the box and saw a warrior curled into a fetal position on the ground, blood oozing between his fingers as he tried to hold his side together. The victor strode around the edge of the arena, raised his bloodied spear, and gestured at the crowd, depositing the fate of the wounded combatant in their hands.

  Most of the arena was cheering. The fallen warrior had been fighting for Bogdan’s household, and few, outside of the castes he patroned, or lesser Noble Households beholden to him, had much love for the High Noble. Michal glanced at Zofia to see if she was cheering, but she only frowned down at the scene beneath her, unimpressed. Her servants were cheering though, and as Zofia did not silence them, Michal took it as a sign that she preferred Bogdan to lose his more skilled Warriors.

  The victorious warrior, encouraged by the crowd and not halted by the royalty, twirled the boar spear in his hands before plunging it down into the spine of Bogdan’s fallen warrior. There was a brief, but grisly, scream as the warrior had his spine severed and died right there on the arena floor. More cheers rose as the victorious warrior left to join the rest of his household and tend to his superficial wounds.

  Clearing his throat, Michal turned away from the scene, his head already spinning. “As you know well my aversion to blood, Lady Zofia, why is it you insisted I join you at this year’s Mettling? Surely one of your children would be better company than I.”

  “No need to address me so formally, Michal. I’d like to consider you a friend, if I may,” Zofia said, smoothly brushing an ash gray strand of hair from her face and beckoning for more wine in one fluid motion.

  Zofia grinned. “Without an heir, our king will be choosing from which Noble Household his successor will come this year. I intend for him to name my household for that honor.”

  Michal was about to protest, but was stopped by Zofia’s hard stare. “I was his advisor for a long time, darling, and my daughter is married to the king’s nephew. Good King Renard still trusts me with a few secrets, even if I don’t hold an advisory position any longer.”

  Zofia turned her gaze back to the arena as one of the Royal Household Artisans came out to silence the crowd before they announced the next combatants. Zofia grinned benignly as she watched the artisan struggle to control the crowd. “Bogdan may have stolen my old position, but that will be the last thing he takes from my household, dea
r. That is why I asked you here today and not one of my children or grandchildren.”

  Michal paled at Zofia’s words. It was a great honor to have Zofia trust him with her schemes to enter the Royal Household. However, if it failed it would assuredly mean the end of both him and his household. The risks were great, as were the rewards.

  Michal inclined his head to her as if silently asking her to continue. Zofia took another sip of her wine, her rings clinking against the crystal. She savored the decadent red vintage for a moment before continuing, “Some three months ago, an outsider arrived in Arcadia. I was alerted to her presence by a friend of mine in Theda.”

  “Who is this friend?” Michal interrupted.

  Zofia looked at him coldly, her stare enough to cow him immediately. “My apologies, Lady Zofia. I meant no disrespect by my interruption. I am merely curious as to whom you would allow to contact you from the outside lands.” Michal reverted to formally addressing Zofia in hopes of tempering her legendary anger.

  Zofia shifted in her seat; her heavily corseted coat with its reinforced whalebone caging creaked as she did so. The pearly swirls on the amethyst-colored jacket caught the light from the hundreds of oil lamps suspended above the arena, momentarily blinding Michal.

  Zofia smoothed her coat and her silvery, velvet skirts before continuing, “Seneschal Isabetta contacted me, my dear. She may not be a Noble, but she governs the most technologically advanced area in Theda and so, arguably, the whole world. I make it a point to stay in contact with anyone important, regardless of whether they are inside or outside Arcadia. She sent me a message letting me know that someone would be arriving, someone that I might find interesting.”

  Michal knew better than to say anything this time. He sat patiently waiting for Zofia to resume speaking. In the meantime, the artisan had a few of the servants from Zofia’s household bring out a weapon rack for the next combatants. It held a two-headed flail and a pair of trident-shaped daggers.

  Michal watched them, head tilted and posture perking up to better view the scene below. He wondered what Warrior Household Zofia could have an interest in patroning. Zofia already had most of the best Warrior Households, outside of the Royal Household, under her patronage in some way. Arcadia was enjoying a time of peace; accumulating more warriors seemed like a waste to Michal.

  “This someone,” Zofia whispered, “according to Isabetta, is rather extraordinary. One of a kind, even. She is supposedly the target of a bounty for inciting a dag’ear riot on that dated little island of Selkirk; a riot, my dear, which ended when their feral dag’ears regained their minds. They had lost them some centuries prior. This uprising also ended Selkirk’s barbaric practice of the Clearing. Whether she is the monster they claim is up for debate. But, from what I have seen, she is at least a useful sort of demon.

  “Isabetta also tells me that she discovered that the masters in their Ordine della Macchina were creating human–elf hybrids then using them in some nefarious way to keep all those wondrous machines of theirs functioning. She and her associates put an end to such practices. Isabetta would have liked to have kept her in Theda, but the bounty on her and the mystery surrounding what she is persuaded Isabetta to send her away.

  “Isabetta knows my ambitions, darling. She believed that I’d have use for such an asset, at least until this woman can go back home. And I believe Isabetta is right.” Zofia raised her glass at the artisan on the arena floor as he looked up at the noblewoman expectantly.

  “Good lords and ladies! It is my great privilege on behalf of the Royal Household to announce the next combatants for this year’s Mettling!” boomed the artisan as he addressed the crowd.

  Michal glanced between Zofia and the artisan as the man continued. “Each year, we ask our warriors to test their mettle against one another to win the patronage of our esteemed Noble Houses! This year, four households have elected to enter the Mettling to select new warriors, making competition fierce as the warriors compete for limited space. Already House Bogdan has lost one of its recruits to House Eleonora’s newest Warrior! Now, our newest hopefuls enter the arena!”

  The artisan’s recap of the Mettling stirred the crowd up into a fervor once more. All were eager to see who the newcomer was and if they would be able to beat Kacper’s warrior. If they managed it, they would face the one undefeated warrior Bogdan had left.

  Michal turned to Zofia as the crowd continued to cheer and stomp their feet against the wooden seats surrounding the arena floor. “Lady Zofia,” he asked, aghast, “are you honestly considering offering your patronage to an outsider? King Renard would never allow you to patron such a person without her first proving herself.”

  Zofia gave a delicate snort and waved Michal’s worries away with her wrinkled hand. “She has proven herself already, darling. Her mercenary band has already saved a Farmer child who fell down a mine, escorted a Merchant through rival territory and did so with no incident, and most importantly, came to the aid of a Noble who had been ambushed by the casteless and did so without contract or payment. This is on top of a handful of other, less important contracts not worth my energy to remember. She has proved herself worthy in my eyes and will in the king’s eyes through the Mettling.”

  “It is just…it’s unprecedented. If you wish to usurp Bogdan, then I don’t see how employing an outsider to your household will help matters,” Michal said as the artisan continued with his opening monologue.

  “Lords and ladies!” the artisan boomed again. “Allow me to present the fierce Nym as he returns to the arena! Nym may be a dag’ear, but he has cast those of his clan aside to join the mighty Warrior caste of our glorious society!”

  At this, Nym entered the arena. Michal recognized him as one of the men who had fought the day before and the only elf in this year’s Mettling. He knew it was uncommon in places like Theda for dag’ears and humans to interact freely with one another, but personally, Michal liked these elves. They were hard workers who had left their countryside brethren behind, making them not nearly as insufferable as the others.

  Nym strolled to the center of the arena, raising his arms and brandishing his two-headed flail, crusted in blood from the foe he had killed the day before. He was a sinewy elf, all lean muscle and wiry strength, but he was lightning quick on his feet and had managed to fell his opponent in record time in that match. He was already a favorite to win Kacper’s Household patronage, and he knew how to play to the crowd, which made him liked even by rival houses.

  Nym bowed low to the royal box before bowing to Kacper’s box seats. His long, jet black braid hung along his back, sweeping the dusty arena floor. The elf straightened, tightening the black and yellow plaid belt—Kacper’s Household colors—around his black leather trousers, straightening his thick leather jerkin as he did so. Combatants were not allowed to wear armor in the Mettling; those who survived showcased their scars with pride afterwards. Nym had defeated his previous opponent so quickly, he bore not a scratch to show for his efforts.

  Zofia smiled down at Nym. “I plan on the unprecedented nature of her to win the crowd away from this Nym fellow. Besides, it’s not unheard of for outsiders to win status and patronage. Moreover, she will not be patroned directly to my house, but to yours.”

  Michal balked at her words before she laughed in response, “Surely you’re not surprised, darling? I cannot be directly associated with this woman. But you can be, and that serves my purposes just fine. Oh, you needn’t look so astonished. I will make this worth your while.”

  She paused for a moment, tapping her faded pink lips with a gnarled finger. “You have yet to wed, Michal. How would you like to wed my granddaughter, Kaja? She’s a pretty girl and is the offspring of my daughter Nina and Renard’s nephew, Eryk. Her lineage puts her far above yours. Would that be enough to satisfy you and to agree to allow my favored Warrior to be patroned directly to your house…and kept for my exclusive use?”

  Michal swallowed and stared wide eyed at Zofia. He had never met Kaja, but
any child or grandchild of Zofia’s who was not currently wed was highly sought after by other Noble Households. If Zofia allowed him to wed this Kaja, regardless of her looks or temperament, it would immediately—and significantly—increase his status throughout Arcadia.

  Unable to speak, Michal nodded.

  “Excellent,” Zofia said, patting him on the hand. “Of course, you wouldn’t wed until after my conditions are met. But I will have Nina draw up the paperwork for you to sign and I will keep it secure in my vault until sufficient time has passed; we wouldn’t want your nuptials sullied by politics. Once our tasks are completed, you two shall marry. Fair enough?”

  Again, Michal nodded his agreement. He would have preferred to wed Kaja as quickly as possible to sooner enjoy an elevated status, but as long as legal documents were secured, he would be satisfied. Besides, he was in no position to argue with Zofia.

  Before Zofia could speak further, the artisan boomed from below: “Nym’s challenger is no other than an outsider to our lands! A woman from Selkirk and Theda; a world traveler! Her mercenary band, Hanner Pobl, may already be known to some of you, her honorable deeds have crossed several cities and households. Now, the indomitable Tallis looks to enter the mighty Warrior caste and earn the patronage of Lord Michal’s Household with Lady Zofia’s blessing! Lords and ladies, I ask you, are you ready for this explosive match?”

  As the crowd erupted into loud cheers and gasps, Michal turned wide-eyed once more to Zofia.

  Zofia grinned thinly at him. “You do not get to where I am without knowing what kind of bargains to make to ensure you get what you want. Your household is a minor one, dear. Offering you closer ties to me through marriage was a proposition I knew you’d be in no position to refuse. Now hush; let’s see what this Tallis can do.”